Throw all of these factors into a climate in which the leaders make the people feel as if they can never question those leaders because that means questioning God himself, and then one has a recipe for spiritual abuse. Those who admitted the truth of it were labeled as “darkened,” “taken over,” or “possessed.” How many times had I heard “They can’t see the truth because they’ve turned away from it”? The leaders made it shameful and dangerous for us to question polygamy, out loud or in our hearts.
Every way that I examined it, polygamy was neither healthy nor holy. Why could no one see it? Because they would not—unless like me, they were denied the good graces of Warren Jeffs and experienced a rude awakening!
For days I was furious, and all I knew was that I did not want that perverse dictator Warren directing my show from his self-righteous pulpit. I felt intense shame and self-hatred for what I had allowed, especially Elissa’s wedding and the nightmare of her Priesthood-dictated honeymoon. Now more than ever, it felt like a cocklebur in my heart.
CHAPTER 16
A Few Drops of Water
I awoke several days later feeling like the walking dead, bone tired and incredibly nauseated. I figured my emotional turmoil had taken its toll and I had finally succumbed to the flu spreading at work. I took a day off, yet the symptoms persisted. I began to wonder if something else was going on. I had never known what birth control was. At Short Creek, trying to “outdo” God’s natural laws was considered evil, and I hadn’t needed it with Rulon. Although I had been extremely naïve, I had seen enough friends and family struggle with pregnancy to understand the signs.
Oh my God! I can’t be pregnant!
I ran to the bathroom, heaving. With the vomit came the emotions of shame and guilt I’d been holding in. I couldn’t help feeling that I had become everything Warren said that I would be.
Perhaps even worse, I had betrayed Cole’s one request of me. Ben and I had tried staying away from each other, but our love had grown along with our desire to be together. Being alone each night in the living room had been a test we had been unable to pass.
“You okay, Sis?” asked my brother, shuffling by the door as if on cue. Hurriedly, I collected myself, leaning against the sink for support.
“Sure,” I said mustering false cheer. “Thanks for asking.” Inside, I was devastated. What would Ben think if I were pregnant? Would he want a baby? Would he leave me?
From Short Creek, Scott and others gave us reports on what was happening with our families and close friends. It cut us both deeply to know the lies being publicly spread about us. Warren had become quite paranoid, placing more cameras on the Jeffses’ property and more fences and security around it. He said it was to keep the wicked out, but I knew it was just as important to him to keep the people in. I’d had a hard enough time escaping. How would any woman flee Warren’s clutches now? Despite the painful fallout, I had never been more grateful that I had found the courage to leave when I did.
It had only been six weeks since we’d left, but we were now adjusting to a world oblivious to my sister-wives and their plight. Ben and I went to his company Christmas party, where I clung to him like a mouse. We hadn’t dared tell anyone where we came from. Instead, we were like ducks, calmly swimming new waters on the surface, but paddling like hell underneath. Our first Christmas was a culture shock, as we witnessed warm traditions and gift giving, feeling poor and unsteady in our new environment. Except for work parties, Christmas had been just another day, until Ben woke me that morning.
“Merry Christmas!” he said, grinning, and placed two wrapped presents in my lap.
“But I didn’t get you anything!” I said, shocked and saddened. I hadn’t any money to buy anything for him or for Cole. In Rulon’s home, the only celebrations we had were anniversaries, and not even birthdays were acknowledged. I opened my gifts, a calendar and a pair of pajamas, with tears in my eyes. To be acknowledged like this was very touching to me. As the days passed, I missed my old life like crazy, but I couldn’t help but see the beauty and majesty in the differences of the people and the customs outside of the FLDS.
A couple of days later, I had a dream. We were young students in Warren’s classroom where he had been teaching us Priesthood History and about the government coming after the Prophet during the destructions. “Are you willing to stand by the Prophet? Are you willing to die for the Prophet?” My classmates and I quickly took a stand. Certainly we would give our lives for the Prophet.
I woke that night gasping, unable to get the dream out of my head. Just two months earlier, I would have been willing to die for the Prophet. I’d been sure. So how would I know if I was making wise choices from now on?
The next morning, wrapping myself in extra layers and jackets, I went down to the ocean intending to have a brisk walk. Instead, I ended up sitting in the sand, watching the churning waves. I thought about a quote I had read from Gandhi: “You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty.” Short Creek had become contaminated by Warren Jeffs, but he did not represent all of humanity, or even all of the FLDS. And just as I had made mistakes, those mistakes did not make up all of me. The tide was going out, and I had the weirdest sensation that it was pulling from me everything I was ready to release. As the waves came back in, I let them fill me with peace.
Just after Christmas, we received an urgent call from Mom on Ben’s cell. My brother Joshua was in a great deal of trouble and needed our help. As a lost boy, Joshua had struggled outside of the FLDS and was often suicidal. Now, the police had caught him passed out drunk in the driver’s seat of a vehicle, with keys in the ignition. He was not yet twenty-one, so unless he had family willing to take him in and give him some structure, he would go to jail. Cole quickly determined that Joshua should live with us, even though the apartment was tiny. He was still too ill to drive alone to Utah to retrieve him, however, so we arranged for the three of us to meet Amelia and Collin on their way back up to Canada, accompanied by Elissa, who was going to visit them. As soon as Ben and I finished our shifts, we began to drive through the night to Pendleton, Oregon.
I was terrified to see my younger siblings. The last time I had seen Joshua, I had been reeking of self-righteousness, trying to get him to acknowledge the error of his ways and repent. I was also nervous about Amelia and Collin. I knew from limited conversations with Mom that Amelia had been sympathetic when I left, but I was no longer one of the “righteous.” I had no idea how Collin felt. My worst fear, however, was facing Elissa. I loved my little sister more than life and didn’t know if she’d forgiven me yet for leaving her in that desert town with Allen.
Beyond all this, a bigger question loomed.
At a rest stop, Ben and I got out to stretch. “What would you do if I was pregnant?” I asked him hesitantly. He paused for a brief moment, and then looked straight at me.
“I would take care of you,” he replied plainly. “You’re not alone, Becky. I’m here.”
Though I had been praying that I was not pregnant, I was filled with the relief of knowing I would not have to go it solo in this bizarre new world.
In the early morning hours we arrived in Pendleton—an old, high-desert town that reminded me of areas of Utah. Our family members had arrived a few hours before and were still asleep in their hotel. As we sipped hot chocolate in the restaurant next door, I noticed Cole was nervous. I wondered if he still felt as guilty as I did for leaving the others.
When we entered their room, the first person I noticed was Joshua. He was wearing only a thin and ragged T-shirt and thin cargo pants despite the cold, and had literally no possessions with him. Even though he was six years younger than me, he seemed frail and bent like an old man. As he hugged me, though, I saw his big, careless grin and realized that my rambunctious little brother was still there.
Next I hugged Amelia and Elissa, who were both genuinely kind to all of us. I turned to Collin to greet him, but his
demeanor was cold. Of course, he was in an awkward situation. Here I was, Satan’s child, with two other apostates, including the man who had stolen the Prophet’s wife away from the people.
Elissa looked pale and unhappy. Her belly seemed bigger than when we had left, and I suspected that she might be pregnant, but she didn’t say anything to me and I didn’t pry. She did say was she was on her way to spend time in Canada without Allen, before changing the subject to Warren’s crazy behavior as the new Prophet. Every Sunday the congregation kept showing up in fear of what he would do next, she told us.
Amelia was exceptionally kind. She brought me a letter from Christine. It said that she would remember the good times, love me, and pray for me always. My heart ached as I read. As angry as I had been that she had broken my confidence to Warren, I still loved her with my whole heart. I fingered the letter in my hands and wished I could express that to her myself.
Amelia and I went into the bathroom for some privacy, but I cried out a little when she pulled me close to hug me again. My breasts were excruciatingly tender.
“Are you pregnant?” Amelia whispered, her eyes wide with concern.
“I don’t know,” I murmured back, turning on the water so no one would hear.
“Do you think you could be? What will you do, Becky?”
I shook my head, tears spilling down my cheeks. Amelia hugged me again, this time gingerly.
All too soon, it was time to go, and Ben and I drove the long drive back with Cole and Joshua.
My job at the restaurant was a daily struggle. I would show up to do my very best, listening carefully to everything the owner, Elizabeth, asked me to do, but her words often confused me. Though my boss, coworkers, and I had all been raised next to one another in the United States, and we all spoke the same language, the meaning behind our words was completely different.
Every night I would come home and share my confusion with Cole, who had been out of the FLDS long enough to find my stories hilarious. I tried to laugh at myself, too, but my boss was often angry with me. She frequently drank throughout her shift, which loosened a very sharp tongue, and her criticism became almost crippling. To be fair, I had never revealed my background to her, so she had no reason to understand my mistakes. I became scared of my own shadow, and finally Elizabeth accused me of doing drugs. I assured her that was not the case, but she stayed on high alert.
I enjoyed several of my coworkers, especially Mark, a young man who exhibited many effeminate behaviors. I had no point of reference; I just knew he was a sensitive, funny guy. One evening that January, my brothers came in to see me, which caused quite a stir, as they were both exceptionally handsome. All the girls and Mark asked me several questions about them. No one had recognized the fact that they were siblings.
“Are they seeing each other?” Mark finally asked.
“Ewwww, no!” I cried dramatically. It shocked me that he would ask if two brothers were seeing each other. I had no idea that Mark was gay, and my naïve but passionately negative comment sorely offended him.
That night Elizabeth took me aside in a drunken rage. “What the hell is your problem? And what the hell planet are you from?”
I left in tears of disgrace and never returned. Nor did I ever have the chance to tell Mark that I was genuinely sorry. I had hated my boss but was deeply saddened at the loss of Mark’s friendship.
Fortunately, I got another job at a cozy restaurant inside the Ramada Inn, where a new coworker, Carol, took me under her wing. The ladies I worked with there were more mature than at Elizabeth’s, and exceptionally kind. In addition, the clientele of this restaurant was also mature—primarily busloads of elderly seniors visiting the area. I found I could more easily relate to these conservative crowds. In this gentler climate, I could decipher the meaning of language, and I paid rapt attention.
“You listen as if your life depends on it!” remarked one older gentleman at my table. I smiled shyly and laughed. I felt like it did.
Four people in Cole’s small apartment caused more tension than we had been prepared for, and Joshua was struggling with alcoholism. Because of Cole’s focus on health, he didn’t drink but had not been judgmental of Joshua. However, the alcohol caused Joshua to behave irrationally at times. Both of my brothers began snapping at Ben for no reason, and seemed to align against him. I loved my brothers dearly but could not ignore everything Ben had done for me and my feelings for him. He and I talked about getting a place of our own, but we did not have enough money saved.
When my nausea continued to worsen instead of subside, I used my tip money to buy a pregnancy test. When I saw the double lines, my heart fell. That night I tearfully confided to Ben, who just held me for several long moments, before wiping the tears from my cheeks.
“We need to be honest with Cole,” he said. I was worried. Whatever Joshua and I shared about our siblings had enraged him. Cole felt like he had failed us, especially when he heard that Joshua’s twin, Jordan, had become a young, unwed father. So how could I tell him that I had become pregnant? And likely while I was under his very roof?
We decided to tell him that weekend after our shifts, but before that could happen, Cole got sick in the night and came out to find Ben and me together.
“You can leave here now,” Cole thundered, angry at our betrayal. We left immediately, but Ben made me go back to Cole’s and mend some fences. For three long weeks, Ben lived out of his Blazer, refusing to let me leave Cole’s apartment in my condition to join him. He soon found a temporary room, for which I was grateful. Ben had become my best friend and confidant, and I cared for him more deeply than I had ever allowed myself to care for any man.
At home I still had to live with my brothers’ degrading remarks about Ben. I did my best to be positive in that environment, and like Ben, worked as many double shifts as I could to save money for us. Whenever I saw Ben, he would graciously remind me that I still held the power to choose where I focused my energies. I began to think less about my brothers’ unkindness toward him, and more about creating a life together.
In February 2003, Ben and I moved into our first real home together, a tiny little duplex. We had no furniture and slept on the floor, but we didn’t care. It hadn’t taken us long to find an apartment once we put the word out to our coworkers. Even though neither of us had a lick of credit, the landlords kindly gave us a chance. The world was supposed to be so wicked, and yet here were two virtual strangers giving us an opportunity to prove ourselves. My feelings began to change. Still, I had some vitally important shifts to make on the inside.
CHAPTER 17
Emerging Wings
I had left the FLDS to gain freedom, and yet I felt powerless in so many ways. Anguish over the fight with Cole and the way my brothers treated Ben was like a raw wound. Right next to it was all the guilt and shame for those I had left behind. I wept over my sister Elissa, stuck in a violent and loveless marriage. Amelia, who’d been in touch, had told me that Elissa suffered a miscarriage from being raped by her husband. I wept for my brothers scraping to survive like me, in a foreign world. I wept for my mom and for Ally and Sherrie, and the knowledge that my littlest sisters were in danger of becoming child brides like Elissa. I wept over feeling like I could do nothing to stop it. It was the deepest despair I had experienced since leaving.
At one point, my tears of frustration turned into a plea.
God, please, just show me a different way to live. Something, anything, has to be better than this.
Finally I got up, and sat down at my harp. My tears subsided as I became caught up in the music. I played and played, pouring my emotions out to God, and it was like a salve to my soul.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door.
Sheepishly, I made my way to the entrance, realizing that I’d been playing for hours and had probably annoyed neighbors I hadn’t even met! In my head I could hear Irene screaming, Can you please tell Becky to stop?
I opened the door, and to my surprise, found two ver
y lovely, smiling ladies I guessed to be in their late twenties.
“Hello there!” they cried, almost simultaneously. “We’re your neighbors!” One held out a plate of cookies and they introduced themselves with a great deal of laughter. “We’re Mary and Leah Houghton. We heard you playing and thought we’d stop by.”
Horrified, I started to apologize.
“Oh, no!” they both said. Leah placed her hand kindly on my arm.
“We were excited to hear you play! We’re both musicians.” Their enthusiasm was contagious, and they didn’t seem to notice or care that our living room had only a harp and some boxes in it.
“Rumor has it you might play the fiddle as well?” asked Mary, the taller of the two.
I nodded curiously.
The ladies went on to explain that they were part of the Little Ole Opry on the Bay, a musical group that put on two big performances a year—at Christmas and in the summer. They were already preparing for the summer concert series, and desperately needed a fiddle player!
I was dumbfounded—but quickly grew excited. I sent a silent prayer of thanks to God. He had sent me a lifeline of something familiar in a foreign world. Along with the baby growing inside me, I felt I had somewhere to serve and something to bring me joy.
Ben and I were anxiously awaiting the time when the nausea from my pregnancy was supposed to subside, but it never seemed to go away. Ben worked later shifts generally, and he usually wanted to sleep at the time I would need a ride to work, so I walked several miles there and back each day. My coworkers were appalled that he’d take the car, especially given my condition, but I was used to this treatment from a man. His needs naturally came before mine. It was how we had both been raised.
At work, Ben finally confided in his boss, Michelle, about my condition.
“Congratulations!” she cried, genuinely delighted. “I’m sure the grandmothers are very excited!” When Ben hesitated, she looked at him quizzically. “Haven’t you told them?”
The Witness Wore Red: The 19th Wife Who Brought Polygamous Cult Leaders to Justice Page 21
